


Smell of Burning, A

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-10
Updated: 2006-10-10
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: He's like a moth to a flame.





	Smell of Burning, A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

He doesn't know what to do. He's like a moth to a flame.

She glows these days. She's always glowed for him, but now it's there for all to see, and he doesn't like the comments, the way he's forced to hear the theories, the innuendo. He can't joke about it.

And he can't keep away.

* * *

She's agitated. One of her reporters is sniffing around and she wants to know if he's on to something.

"Come on, Leo, give me a break here. Let me have at least one day when I can look them in the eye and know it's not an act." Her arms are waving and she's pacing; long, loping strides that take her right across the room and back. 

Each time she approaches, Toby steps closer, waiting to see if she'll home back to the same spot. She does, and suddenly they are nose to nose. He catches her elbow and she stands still, breathing deeply.

"I have nothing more to tell you, CJ. Just, you know... do your job?" Leo doesn't look up, doesn't catch the half smile on her face or Toby's blush; doesn't see her small step back or Toby's hand still on her arm.

She licks her lips and turns to go. "Okay... but it's getting old, this blundering in the dark, Leo. Someday you're gonna find yourself working with someone who's not quite so... easy."

Both men watch her fly from the room.

"What's up with her?" Leo pulls his glasses from his nose and stares at Toby.

Toby stares back with a small shrug and a lift of the eyebrows. He knows what's wrong and he really doesn't blame her. He'd have lasted precisely one week in her job and would have made enemies enough to last the rest of his working life. He also knows that the best line of defense with Leo, and his crazy assumption that Toby knows CJ in a way that is somehow different to the rest of them, is to keep silent. Leo is far too busy to call him on it.

"Go, for God's sake go. And try and keep her out of my hair, would you? She's been acting like a madwoman these last few weeks, and the next person to tell me that she's getting..."

"I'm gone!" And he is. He's gone before Leo can mention the 'B' word. Gone before he has to think consciously of the change in her and its probable (he's hanging on to the probable) cause.

He ambles back to his office and is stunned when he finds himself at her door instead of his own. She's on the phone, but she doesn't look up. He allows himself a minute to look and listen, then he pats the door frame and turns away.

"Do you need her to call you?" Carol is polite as ever and he wonders what she really thinks of him. Wonders if she thinks he measures up, or if she thinks of him at all. At least like that.

"No." A small eye-smile to soften his reticence and he clutches his file closer to his chest and leaves.

Once in his chair, head in hand and pen in other, he levers his brain into gear and away from the remembered heat of her arm.

The ring of the phone startles him more than it should.

"You came to see me?" There is a laugh in her voice that he can pretend is all his.

"Yeah." He can feel himself melt and turns his chair towards the wall. Rina is too perceptive by half and he knows she's lurking.

"Are you going to tell me what you want, or are you just going to be all warm and furry and broodingly silent?"

He snorts out a laugh. "Furry?"

He hears her cheerful sigh. "Yeah, I know. It just sort of sprang out of my mouth. Good job no-one pays me to speak. C'mon, Toby. Say something."

It occurs to him that he could tell her that she's beautiful, that he told her already, but that it's been years and she still is. It occurs to him to mention that he misses her even though he sees her every day; that he wants to hold her and have her smile only for him. That she makes his day brighter. That he thinks he's in love with her. That he's been a fool.

"I... uh... just wanted to say that I don't think Leo's hiding anything from you. Well, that if he is, I'm in the dark too." His voice sounds feeble, even to himself and he curses that he said it, even though it's true. He's never had this conversation with her before, never felt the need to reassure her. Now he'll not be free from it again. Still, better that than the other.

He hears her breathe.

"You're getting soft in your old age, Toby. It'll worry you now... you've kind of set an awkward precedent." Her voice trickles humor and something warmer, "I won't hold you to it, my friend. But don't think I don't appreciate the gesture, mistaken or otherwise. Thanks."

He keeps the phone to his ear, knowing she's gone; buying time he can't afford for dreams he shouldn't have.

* * *

"Damn it, Josh!" He can't contain his anger, and the temperature in the Oval Office drops ten degrees, even though he's burning up. He swipes at the sweat on his brow.

"Toby - I don't think this is the time or place for this discussion." Bartlet's tone brooks no argument, but Toby sees a spark of something like compassion in his eyes.

"Okay," Josh glances nervously at the now silent, still angry, man next to him and takes a step away. "Assuming that we allow the delegation our limited support ..."

Toby sweeps his hand over his face and blocks out the conversation. He needs to sit down, needs a respite. It's as if his world is tilting and his priorities have been scattered in the wind. He needs to pick them up, sort them out, is heading for his knees to do just that.

"Hey." A soft voice and warm breath is at his ear.

He stays standing, eyes closed, but leans into the comfort. She staggers under his weight.

"I beg your pardon, Sir... I think I need to..."

"Take him home, CJ. Make him stay there." Bartlet glances at Leo, who nods. "We can cover for you both. At least for a little while."

Her arm is around his back and he can feel her muscles strain. He makes a huge effort to keep upright, clutches at her hand, eyes open just enough to see, but not enough to catch the concern, the worry - the sympathy.

*

They reach his apartment in silence. He's thankful for her restraint, knows how unnatural it is for her, that she is brimful of questions.

He sinks onto the couch and opens his lips to taste the water she holds there.

"How long is it since you drank anything, Toby? Apart from coffee?"

He can't answer because his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. He drinks cautiously, flinching as he feels the liquid dribble into his beard. He can feel her thigh pressed against his and he hates himself for not moving away, for resting his head on her shoulder.

"Toby?" She sounds really worried now and he knows he's unnerved her.

"I'm fine," he croaks, but doesn't move his head.

She lets him rest there, puts up a hand to his hair. It's a quick caress, but it opens his floodgates, and this time it's tears that leak into his beard.

"Sorry, sorry..." Now he pulls back and she lets him. He can feel her bewilderment through his shame and he'd rather be drunk and offensive than this... weak. This vulnerable. There's nothing to blame.

A thousand heartbeats and she's still there. She's persistent, he'll give her that, and she cares, God knows she cares. Just not that way.

"I think that I need a little time, CJ. I think that I have been neglecting all sorts of things that are part of me that I don't understand."

"I thought you had your midlife crisis already?" Her joke is poor and he can hear the wobble in her voice. "Don't tell me you're going to buy a fast car and hang out with young women?"

"I can't afford a fast car. The house payments are bleeding me dry." His voice is no more than a whisper, "And no young woman would give me a second glance."

"I, I should have asked before about the house, Toby, I didn't know you still had it."

"Yeah, well, I was so keen to buy that I paid more than the asking price. Now I just have to sell it and cover my costs. It's taking longer than I'd hoped." He sees her about to speak and cuts in, "And I'm not living there, CJ. Not by myself. That time has gone. And I'd never find another apartment like this if I moved. I just have to try and live on less - for the time being at least."

"You can afford water, though, Toby. You do need to look after yourself."

He is aware that he on the verge of more tears. "I'm fine, CJ. Really. Go back to work. I promise I'll drink water. Hell, I'll even eat vegetables." He stares at her, moves quickly, before he can help himself, and touches her cheek with a finger. "Don't pity me, CJ."

She frowns and catches his hand. "I don't pity you, Toby, I really don't." Squeezes and lets go. "I'm going back to work. I'll call you later." She roots for her keys and glances quickly back at him. "See you tomorrow."

She doesn't hear his thank you.

* * *

The music swirls around his head despite the club soda. The weakness of a few weeks ago, the shame of losing it, it's still an open sore. He's not touched a drop of alcohol since then. It's been enough to worry the others, but, bizarrely, not CJ. She hasn't said a word. He looks at her now. On his arm. B... Ben. There, he can say it. They are a golden couple to be sure, all height and well proportioned strength.

He thinks she tries too hard, but then he would; he has a vested interest. He's banking on what she told him, the inevitability of the parting, and then feels mean for doing so. It's how he knows he's done for. He can't wish CJ anything but happiness, even if it's not with him, even if it's B...en. Getting better.

He wanted Andi suffering and he's embarrassed even now. Embarrassed but unrepentant. 

He watches as CJ leans and whispers. He's slightly taller, damn him, even when she's wearing heels. Toby feels himself sink further into his glass and turns away so as not to stare. He feels shabby and old despite the haircut and the newish tux. At least his shoes are clean.

"Dance with me, Pokey?"

He turns, amazed.

"Yes!" He gasps out, and feels her take his hand. Her fingers are soft and warm in his palm and her perfume trails her, wrapping him as surely in her magic as a spoken spell. Toby's eyes flicker to the tall man. He's watching.

Toby pulls her gently to him, closer than his wont, and yet not as close as he would like. She laughs against his head.

"Playing the he-man tonight, Toby?"

He doesn't answer, but strokes his hand around her waist and touches his chin to her bare shoulder. It's moments like this that he lives for now, accepting his addiction and planning the next fix before the previous one has ended. He inhales and feels her relax against him, letting the music flow through them. They've danced many times, but this is the first time in front of Ben.

Toby knows they look good, knows that they fit. In a spurt of anger, he hopes that Ben is jealous. He's never asked CJ what she's told Ben about him and he wishes he could; wants desperately to make the other man unsure. Needs even more to know that she's mentioned him at least.

He feels sixteen again and more than faintly ridiculous.

The music starts to fade and he lifts her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. He can't meet her eyes. The walk from the dance-floor is endless and over too quickly and he is shocked when she kisses his cheek.

"Thanks for that, Toby."

He nods ands pastes on what passes for a smile, looking past her ear at the man waiting. It boosts him no end to see a muscle flicker in Ben's jaw. Maybe things aren't cut and dried after all, and the urge to win that's at his core, makes him thread his fingers through hers and squeeze, his thumb stroking her palm. He turns his face to hers, and smiles at the confusion he sees there. A nod, and he pulls away. He can feel her eyes on his back, and he feels better than he has for weeks.

"Toby!" An unwelcome voice penetrates his good humor.

"Andrea. So good of you to find the time to support this Administration." He lets the unspoken criticism hang between them and catches consternation, and indeed concern, on CJ's face as she's led away.

"And so good of you yet again to put your work before your children. I understand you have a reliable babysitter?" Andi's voice is low but penetrating.

Toby feels his momentary euphoria dissipate. The elderly neighbor he's come to know and respect, won't measure up, he just knows it. His chin juts and he breathes deeply through his nose before meeting her eyes. "I do."

It's not the first time he's said the words, but it's the only time he's held nothing back.

Stalemate.

He sees her gaze falter and knows in the part of him that loves her still, the part of him that sees her for the good woman she is, if the wrong woman for him, that she doesn't mean to hurt him. The memory of her desire, her craving for a baby washes over him and he softens.

"I won't let you down, Andi."

She blinks a tear and a heartbeat. "I know." And whisper-wrought, she leaves.

Toby reels with the taste of unexpected and unusual victory, and stares at her retreating back. A victory eye-roll comes to a sudden halt - he sees CJ standing motionless, watching it all, a flicker of warmth in her smile - and pride. He's sure it's pride.

He squashes the temptation to grin, then sees Ben reach for her arm and miss as she steps away. 

He succumbs.

* * *

"I am unparalleled in my cunning, unbeaten in my political machinations! I'm the schemer supreme!" Josh is exultant, if a little drunk, and it makes Toby smile. He wonders how they can be so close in age and yet, and yet... He misses Sam. He misses Sam's seriousness and it's when Josh is like this, it's when they're like this, that he misses Sam most of all. The vote is won and he and Josh make a good team. It's not like writing, but it's politics - and he serves two masters. It's just that he misses Sam and he misses the poetry.

"I am unplararelled... unpalarell..." Josh's confusion is endearing, despite his tendency to persist when he should give up and roll over. 

Toby knows there's a deeper meaning in there somewhere, but he is too tired and too relieved to search for it. Days like this wear him out and win him over all over again.

The bench beside him in the gloom creaks and he feels her lean hard against him.

"CJ, I'm umpl..."

"Enough, Josh, for God's sake," Toby's growl holds real menace. There's a limit to his patience and he has better things to think of now she's here.

"Stick to the simple ones, Josh, that's my mantra." CJ rests an elbow on Toby's shoulder and leers at him, her breath hot and sweet on his face, her breast pressed against his arm.

Toby is transfixed by her nearness - she has an almost predatory air. It's not that becoming, but he finds himself turned on by it. Who is he kidding? Everything about her turns him on these days, but tonight he'd call her brazen. And he's on fire.

Josh sucks on his teeth and the slurping noise draws Toby's attention so that he almost doesn't notice CJ swipe his drink.

"Hey, CJ! You took Toby's... " Josh makes a disgusted face, "you didn't wipe the... you drank out his side..."

"And that's a problem for whom, Josh?" CJ drinks again. "Because Toby and I go back a long way. There's a lot of things you don't even know you don't know about us."

Toby lifts an eyebrow and tips his head at her. "We do? There are?"

"Sure, Pokey." Her grin skews across her face and he notices that her eyes are glazed just a little. Perhaps his isn't her only drink of the night so far. "You know there are, and you treasure every one of them."

"Well if you got any closer, you'd be in his lap!" Josh is showing signs of distress now and Toby is bewildered by both of them and determined not to seem it.

"Where's Charlie? I thought you came in with him?" Toby tries to stop things going any further, at least while he has a witness.

"He's at the bar still, talking to his groupies."

"Groupies? I thought I was the guy with the fan-base..." Josh lurches out of his chair and peers over the crowd. "They've stumbled across the wrong man, I gotta go show Charlie what real celebtity...celebrity's like. Gotta show him how to treat these girls, keep him out of trouble, 'cause you know they can be trouble..."

Toby watches as Josh is lost in the crowd. He thinks he should be happier that the woman in his heart has her fingers laced in his hair and her other hand on his thigh. He thinks he should be showing her what she's missing, what he could do for her, be for her. But all he can think is that she is teasing him and that he hates being teased. It must be revenge for these weeks of him engineering moments of closeness, those touches that he craved. He knows he's not been himself, that he's never been that forward or shown her such physical affection. Or any affection. He's only ever treated her the way he'd treat anyone he respected and admired, anyone who refused to be afraid of him. 

And she's spoken for.

He's sunk pretty low at times in his life; manipulated artfully and guiltlessly to get what he wanted, and God knows he wants her. But he's not going to make a liar out of her. Not when she's the most honest person he knows.

He turns to look at her and she smiles dazzlingly at him, for him.

"Are you trying to embarrass me, CJ?" His voice sounds sterner than he intends, but she doesn't flinch. Doesn't move either hand.

"No." Her reply is reflexive.

He sees her focus and waits for the inevitable clarification. How he loves that she can't lie to him. Not when it's this important.

"But if I were," she plays with a curl at the nape of his neck, "... is it working?" Her eyes flicker in amusement.

"Yes." It's all he's got.

She swallows audibly and regroups. He's never been quite so direct before and he's curious how she'll cope.

"I'm sorry, Toby."

The world seems to stop and nothing exists for him outside her eyes, her mouth and the smell of the whisky on her breath. He's sorry too.

"Hey, guys! I brought more drinks." Charlie sets the glasses on the table and looks over his shoulder to see if Josh has managed to weave his way back to them. "Our resident heartthrob got more than he bargained for up at the bar. I thought we'd be safer with friends."

CJ takes her fingers from Toby's neck and the loss turns his edges to ice.

Her hand on his leg keeps him breathing.

* * *

He's perched on his desk, paper in hand, thoughts anywhere but where they should be. It's been a long day, a long month. He could go on, but he doesn't; he hates giving in to cliché and knows he's on the verge of becoming one. The only reason they're not gossiping (he hopes) is that there's no other Toby, no hopelessly lovelorn Toby, in their experience of Toby, for them to make the match.

He fingers the now redundant lighter in his pants pocket. He flicks it sometimes, just so he can remember the ease with which he did it for more than half his life and a bit. Flicks it and watches the flame, wondering every time just how close he can get before he burns. Gives in.

He's determined not to.

He stopped smoking for himself, not for his children, his ex-wife, nor for the good of his health. He stopped because he didn't want to be defined by it; didn't want this need for nicotine and something to do with his hands as an addendum to his life story. 'A Man And His Cigars'. He wants to be his own man.

His own man and her only man.

It seems as if he has a new addiction, one that sheer force of personality can't overcome. And he's not sure he wants to overcome it. He craves that burn.

He looks up as the door creaks open. It's past ten and she should have left an hour ago. He'd heard Carol's clarion call.

"I'm still here." Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet and he sees her framed by the light from the Bull Pen. Her edges glow, but he can't read the gleam in her eyes.

"So it seems." He softens the words with a quirk of his lips. "Are you staying?"

She doesn't speak, but closes the door softly behind her and glides to the desk. He sees the exhaustion in her skin, make-up long faded; sees the dry patch under her bottom lip and all he wants to do is cradle her face in his hands and kiss her eyes closed.

His phone rings quietly and he drags his gaze down to the red flashing light. An internal call.

"Yes?" He hits the speaker button and smiles at the surprise on her face. He's usually such a private man.

Carol comes through. "Hey, Toby, can you tell CJ that Ben is waiting for her? He wants to know where she is and how long she'll be. If she's not here in the next ten minutes, he's going home..."

He stares at CJ.

She shakes her head, the tiniest of gestures and her eyes never leave his.

He wonders now if he's the only moth.

"No. No... I can't tell her."

"Okay, I'm sorry, Toby, I thought she was with you..." He cuts Carol off with a flick of a finger.

CJ still hasn't moved, but he can tell by her breathing that's she's angry. Or scared.

"Toby?" Her voice cracks and he goes with scared.

Her skin feels so soft under his fingers that he realizes, very suddenly, that he's touching her face. "This is dangerous," he mutters, mainly for himself.

"Yes."

It's the last thing he hears before her lips are on his, soft and infinitely supple. Infinitely subtle. And hot. The heat engulfs him.

It's the end of his life as he's known it.

 

The End.


End file.
